Wednesday, November 30, 2005

The prison was made of glass. Glass and cold bricks. The floor was of old cold bricks. And chalk.

There were markings on the floor. Arcane symbols and ancient scripts. Glyphs. And iconography. Magic was words and these were words meant to stay forever.

"You did it! You did it!" came a voice that seethed with excitement and success. The source came from someone beyond the confines of the glass prison. "You captured him! You captured hi-"

"Silence!" scolded a second voice. The second voice was far older. Far more wizened with age and perhaps experience.

Candle light flickered in the distance. Smoke gathered in the ceiling. Sweat dripped down nervous faces and across tense cheeks. Amidst the shadows, Roderick Burgess grabbed his shivering hands tighter and tried to hide any hint of worry and fear he had within him. John Hathaway nervously slid closer to the glass cage. He stared through the glass and looked at the figure that was unconsciously lying on the ground within.

Curled up on the ground like a child that was too afraid to look up was an unconscious lithe figure of a man. Or a woman. For the purposes of the narrative, the figure shall be referred to as he, though in truth one would be hard-pressed to truly decide what gender the figure extruded most clearly. Such things, remained it seemed, in the heart’s desire of the beholder. Barely clad in anything other than a gossamer strip of purple cloth, his naked body seemed to glow with an inner light. And an outer sensuality.

Shamefully, Alex Burgess felt a stirring within him. And coyly, he turned away and tried to hide the growing attraction he had for the prisoner. Oh how he hoped none of his father’s friends had noticed the evident physical signs of his interest.

But even as the room filled with the contained cheers of the people who had taken part in the ritual, Roderick Burgess shook his head and began yelling at those present to quiet down. John Hathaway, still standing at the glass’ horizon, nearly pressed his face against the glass. The urge to see the prisoner better was nearly overwhelming his sense of self preservation. Only Roderick’s perceptiveness kept John Hathaway from accidentally stepping upon the very runes that made the glass prison a magically sound one.

“You’ve done it,” John Hathaway mumbled beneath his breath; his eyes never left the prisoner, “You’re imprisoned Death.”

“No, not Death,” Roderick Burgess admitted, “This isn’t-”

“We caught Death and now we can demand that Edmund be brought back!”

“We caught someone else!” Roderick Burgess screamed and the whole room turned to face him. Alex Burgess found the opportunity to slip out of the room and quickly made to leave when something at the corner of his gaze caught his attentions. Turning towards the figure on the floor, he noticed something golden barely concealed beneath one foot. Roderick Burgess grabbed his hair and turned to the rest of the room, “This is.. This is one of the others… One of the others…”

“A demon?” John Hathaway worried inquired.

“No,” Roderick Burgess motioned to his followers to lift the glass cage. Alex Burgess saw an opportunity to see the golden thing better and maneuvered towards the glass to be closer to it. With a collective heave, the followers of the self-proclaimed Daemon King tugged on the ropes that were tied to the top of the glass prison’s elaborate rim. The cage slowly lifted, inch by precarious inch, until there was enough space for an adult to walk inside. John Hathaway recoiled in worry, fearing that the reclined figure would suddenly spring up to escape. Roderick Burgess snorted in annoyance and called for one of the followers to bring closer a light. Alex took the chance and stepped inside as well.

He was beautiful. Achingly beautiful. Alex stared at the figure and unconsciously felt himself stiffen in arousal. He bit on his lower lip, then forced his gaze away from the naked form of the summoned prisoner and focused on the glimpsed golden thing by its foot. It was a small metal thing. In the shape of a heart.

“She’s… she must be some kind of angel,” John Hathaway gasped aloud, seeing the perfect curvature of his neck. The plump lips seemed ripe for kissing. And the chest; his ample bosom seemed to call to him.

“Do not let the prisoner distract you,” Roderick Burgess warned Hathaway, “The Endless are not to be trifled with. This is not Death. This is perhaps one of the other ones. One of the others… oh of all the moments to fail to remember their names. Their titles.”

Alex ducked down and reached for the golden heart. His soft hand gingerly brushed against the ankle of the unconscious prisoner. Tears welled up in his eyes as a sudden shock of orgasmic pleasure exploded deep within Alex’ pants. He moaned aloud. Then clamped his fingers tightly around the golden heart.

“Alex!” Roderick heard his son’s voice and turned to see him bent over the prisoner, “Get out of there you foolish boy! Let the followers take the spirit’s cloth! Your job is to stay out of the way, child!”

“But father,” Alex wanted to explain but felt the warmth of the sticky shameful experience still clinging on his thighs. He stepped backwards, leaping over the runes, and made for the door.

“What is that thing?” John Hathaway asked aloud as the followers took the gossamer cloth away and found nothing else seemingly of value or usefulness on the prisoner’s prostrate form. Roderick Burgess motioned to the followers to allow the glass prison to be returned before motioning to the other followers to hand him the cloth.

“Perhaps a God. Perhaps something even Gods fear,” Roderick Burgess was not sure how he knew. Perhaps his long desire to be some magus was finally coming true. “Perhaps something we should have not summoned. Dreams? Destiny? Despair?”

John Hathaway shook his head and watched in silence as Roderick took the gossamer cloth from the follower’s hands and spread it over his two hands. Gently, like it were some ritualistic cloth, Roderick Burgess then lifted it to his face and breathed inwards. Hathaway saw Roderick Burgess suddenly tremble and fall backwards, nearly losing his balance fully. The magus ran one hand over his chest and stomach, then began to gasp and audibly moan in shocked pleasure.

”Roderick?”

“This… this.. is miraculous… this thing,” he muttered before rolling his eyes back and kissing the cloth fully like a lover would. John Hathaway shook his head in disgust as Roderick Burgess suddenly peered from beneath the cloth and stared back in an unexpected expression of rage. “GET OUT! ALL OF YOU! LEAVE THIS ROOM! I SHALL CALL FOR YOU WHEN I NEED OF YOU! LEAVE!” In a commotion, the followers made for the door. John Hathaway knew when he was not needed and took one last glance at the prisoner in the glass cage. He felt the beginnings of a problem were brewing and he wanted to nip it at the bud before it even began to grow. But when it came to affairs of magic and the occult, it was Roderick Burgess who knew how best to deal with such matters.

“OUT!”

Roderick Burgess began to physically shove John Hathaway out of the room, an act that was unprecedented by anything else the self-named Daemon King had ever done to his friend in the past. John feared some ill-spirit or some demon had possessed his friend. But for now, he realized to argue or fight against it was to tempt folly and destroy any chance of finding his friend help or a solution to the strange events that have transpired. John Hathaway left the room and promised himself to revisit his friend some other day. None noticed how Roderick Burgess stared at the cloth with the eyes of a lustful man overcome by desire. Or how Alex Burgess had quietly locked himself in a room.

No one save the prisoner of the glass prison whose eyes now opened with a sudden understanding of what had just transpired. And a sudden fear that perhaps… just perhaps… today Desire of the Endless had finally done something that Desire would regret for a very very long time.